


Enchiladas and Coffee

by horatiofrog



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of traumatic events, Gen, Gossip, Guilt, Reckoning, court of public opinion, the power of FRIENDSHIP!, what makes a murderer?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 17:34:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20915918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horatiofrog/pseuds/horatiofrog
Summary: Clay and Tony discuss what makes a murderer as Clay deals with the aftereffects of a traumatic event.





	Enchiladas and Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Some Baptize in Water, Some in Flames](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15579033) by [Bitterblue_s](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitterblue_s/pseuds/Bitterblue_s). 

> This work in is response to Bitterblue33's "Some Baptize in Water, Some in Flames," where Clay is forced to kill Seth Massey after the latter attempts to torture and kill Justin and Clay in their own home. I imagine the implications of that killing would weigh heavily on Clay, and be a source of gossip for the town of Crestmont. If you haven't read Bitterblue33's story, I highly recommend it!

The whispers irritated him. 

_“Dude, didn’t you hear? I mean, like, everyone knows…”_

The sudden shifts of people in the opposite direction grated too.

_“Isn’t that…?”_

_“Jesus fuck, yeah. Come on, maybe he didn’t see…” _

And the stares came from everywhere.

Tony Padilla glanced over at his best friend, the kid he called his “brother from another mother,” and wondered how in the _hell_ Clay Jensen was keeping it together. The kid in question was nursing a cold coffee Tony had managed to pick up from Monet’s before making an appearance in second. Clay’s face was a thin mask, like overstretched gauze around a seeping wound. Blue eyes were nearly bloodshot, and the poor kid had spent the better part of a week studying his shoes. Tony thought fleetingly of Justin Foley (Tony had some trouble reconciling him as a newly minted Jensen), still homebound due to recovering from the gunshot wounds he’d received from the violent asshole known as Seth Massey. Seth had planned to end both Clay and Justin’s lives that fateful night in December, but fortune had prevailed on the side of Tony’s friends.

Unfortunately, fortune hadn’t been kind to Clay. While he’d survived Seth’s monstrous beating, it was Clay who’d finally – inexplicably - managed to fire two shots at his would-be murderer. The action saved his life, and Justin’s too, but it had turned Clay into the thing he’d been fighting against. Seth had died, and Clay had pulled the trigger.

_“Well, what did they expect? Taking in a kid like Justin Foley? I mean, come on…that fuck-up nearly got that whole family killed!”_

“Clay, are you all right?” Tony asked, gingerly tapping his friend on his good arm. Clay had suffered seven broken bones during Seth’s attack, including his upper arm and two of his fingers. The whole getup _looked_ painful, and it made him think long and hard about his own anger outbursts. _If this is what happens, I swear on my mother I will never lay a hand on someone in anger again – unless they’re attacking me or mine. Then all bets are off._

A deep sigh came out of the scrawny kid. “I’ll be fine.” Clay’s voice was flat, emotionless.

“Come on. This, being here? This is a _bad_ idea, Clay. Say the word, we’re out of here.”

“I’ve already missed two months. I can’t…I can’t hide forever.”

Tony disagreed. “Clay, I’ve been seeing the looks you’ve gotten all morning, and _I_ wanna crawl in a fucking hole. I can’t…I can’t imagine…”

Clay shook his head. “No, you can’t. I’m _glad_ you can’t. But the looks aren’t so bad, really.”

“You look like a ghost.”

“Obviously, that’s not true.”

The Latino kid shook his head. “Apparently, not for lack of trying. I should’ve been here.” Tony had been in Mexico when the attack occurred, mourning his grandfather after his passing.

“You were where you needed to be, Tony. Your family needed you.”

“My family needed me _here._”

Clay offered up a small smile. “Thanks, man.”

“Now, let’s bail. One more day outside this place won’t kill you.” Before Clay could retort, Tony added, “Save the witty banter. Get your shit and meet me outside.”

* * *

There were only three places Clay felt safe anymore. The bedroom he shared with Justin was at the top of the list. Hell, _any_ room he shared with Justin was a good place. Clay remembered how close he’d come to not having his brother to share rooms with.

Tony’s beloved Mustang was another. Clay let his hand trail through the open window, letting the damp air rush past his skin. It was the little things that mattered, and being able to close his eyes and let the world pass by was one of them. “Can we stop at Monet’s, get another coffee?” he asked. “I mean, this one sucks now.”

“Coffee? Really?” Tony shook his head in disbelief. “Today – and _only_ for today – I offer you anything you want within reason, and you want coffee?”

Clay shrugged. “Well, that and your mom’s enchiladas...”

“Oh, my God. Please don’t tell me _that_ was the first thing you wanted after you got out of the hospital.”

“It was, actually. Your mom’s enchiladas and coffee. I mean, seriously, hospital food sucks. What you can eat of it, that is.” Clay grimaced a little at the thought of the cardboard sustenance he’d endured for weeks after his attack. Then he sobered. “I couldn’t really eat anything, at first.”

“Stomach couldn’t take it?”

“No. Everything tasted like gasoline.”

Clay clutched at his seatbelt as the Mustang tried to stop on a dime. “Clay, what the _fuck.._?”

“Pull over there,” the elder Jensen child replied, pointing at a small overlook just on the edge of the highway. Tony complied, and the pair sat for a moment taking in the sight of the town of Crestmont. A light fog was rolling in from the bay, and it was hard to make out the large suspension bridge in the distance. At his friend’s expectant glance, Clay began. “Seth wanted to take Justin that night.”

“Okay, and?”

“And Justin, the idiot, was planning to go with him. Claimed he was saving me, or some shit! Like I was gonna let that psycho take him. We’d have found parts of him in, like, five states six months later.”

“So you got involved.” Tony lifted a hand to his head in exasperation.

“Well, yeah. And that’s when I got the shit stomped out of me.”

“Okay…”

“And Justin’s there, screaming, telling him all this shit; that he’ll go with Seth, he’ll do all these things…” Clay swallowed hard. “He offered to turn tricks, and…and even _kill_ himself…”

“Jesus fuck.”

“And its then that Seth gets the bright idea to just…burn our house down. With us in it.”

Tony frowned. “He used gasoline? As the accelerant?”

“Yeah.” Clay took a deep breath. “He and that Shane guy…they emptied cans of it all over our living room, all over the front entrance…but then, Seth starts pouring it over _me._” He swallowed thickly. “It…it was _everywhere,_ Tony. In my hair, over my skin, soaked into my clothes, in my mouth a little…”

It was hard for Clay to follow his friend’s rapid-fire Spanish. “Death was too kind for him, Clay.”

“And then he turns and threatens Justin…starts fucking with him, like me, and…” Another shaky breath. “…somehow, Justin got his hands on a gun. He’s pinned under the bastard, and he somehow knocks it in my direction.”

Clay watched as the penny dropped in Tony’s mind. The Latino’s face slackened and his eyes grew wide.

“I don’t even know how I did it. I mean, my arm was beyond fucked up, so I had to shoot one-handed. All I could think about was _stopping_ him…making sure he couldn’t hurt either of us anymore…and the next thing I knew, the gun went off and missed. The next second, Seth’s holding his neck and he’s bleeding out like a motherfucker.” Clay sighed. “I don’t remember a whole lot after that. It’s kind of a blur.”

“Jesus Christ, Clay…” Tony sucked in a breath. “I should’ve been here.”

“And what were you going to do, exactly?” Clay challenged. “Tony, those guys were going to _kill_ us. I mean, I love that you wanted to help, but…”

“Three against three would’ve made a fairer fight.”

Clay shook his head. “Not against armed assholes. I mean, it’s a fucking _miracle_ we even survived!”

“Still...” Tony sighed. “I mean, I knew that Seth was dead and that you had something to do with it. The news and all…”

Blue eyes rolled derisively. “Oh. _Those_ vultures.” Clay snorted. “They camped out on our lawn for over a week. We couldn’t even leave the _house._ Mom had to threaten them with invasion of privacy and trespassing to get them to even _move_ from our front door.”

“Fuck me.”

Clay leaned his head as far as the headrest would allow. “And that’s been my life until two days ago. Which is why I want coffee now. Mom wouldn’t let us have any. I mean, Justin can’t even eat real food yet, but he says he’s saving himself for the day-old pastries at Monet’s.” He chuckled, without mirth. “I mean, Donut Works has better stuff, but he’s insistent.”

“It’s because he got that job. Employer loyalty and all.”

“I guess. But Monet’s has coffee, so…”

“Oh, my fucking God. Fine. Coffee.” Tony started the Mustang, letting the engine rev up a little. “_One_ coffee. And while we’re having those, I’ll call Mami and politely suggest we have enchiladas for dinner.”

A wider smile broke out on Clay’s face. “Have I mentioned you are, like, my best friend, ever?”

* * *

It was as though someone turned the volume down at Monet’s. Tony noticed it when he and Clay had made their way towards the bar to order. The drone of artsy music still lingered, but the conversations had vanished the second Clay started to order. Hushed whispers and furtive glances took their place. “_Hermano, _are you _sure…_”

“Yeah,” Clay said quietly. “It’s like, one of the only places I feel safe anymore.”

Disagreement worked its way over Tony’s face, but he led his friend towards a back corner booth. He deliberately sat Clay in the seat facing the wall. “If I gotta see one more person in this shit-ass town point and stare at you, I’m gonna lose my shit,” Tony explained before Clay could argue. “You did what you had to, to save your life. To save Justin’s life. And I’m kinda over people having an opinion about it.”

“But it’s still a thing, Tony.” Clay sighed. “I mean, I _killed_ someone. I ended Seth’s life. _Me._ I’m a murderer, even if people say I acted well within my right.” A thin face fell. Fingers tapped nervously against a worn table. “I mean, what if there was a next time? Or if someone ended up mysteriously dead, floating in the river? First thing people are gonna do is point their finger at me for it.”

“One, there isn’t gonna _be_ a ‘next time’. You are _not_ a murderer, Clay.”

“Well, tell that to the people in this room. Tell that to the people in our fucked-up school. Our shit-ass town.” There was a heavy pause. “I’m so tired. I feel like I have to defend myself every time I leave my house.”

“Clay, everyone else wasn’t there. They didn’t have those things happen to them. Seth was planning on killing you and Justin, plain and simple. You killed him instead, to save your lives. It’s justified homicide, the way I see it. And apparently, how a judge sees it too.”

Just then the door to the coffeeshop opened, and as Tony and Clay received their drinks they saw a short, withered little woman inching her way to the bar. Her white hair was perfectly coiffed, her makeup impeccable, her green eyes piercing as she scanned the once again quiet establishment. Those green eyes landed on Clay’s back, and she inched her way to their table. “So,” she said, her voice gravelly and worn. “Not much to you, is there?”

Clay shrank in his seat. Tony noticed his friend biting his lip. “Who are you?” the Latino asked.

“You don’t know? Or your friend here hasn’t told you?” The little woman sniffed a little. “He killed my boy. My Seth. I can’t say I blame him, but…” The loud sigh was theatric. “I’m sure you did what you thought best. I can’t say I’d have done the same.”

Clay raised his head. “I’m sure your son didn’t try to burn you alive, ma’am. Or shoot you.”

“Seth? Honey, is that _all_ he tried to do?” A low sound escaped the woman’s teeth. “That doesn’t sound like my boy at all. I imagine you were just aiming for one of those other men…my boy, he never…”

“Ma’am…” Clay looked as though he wanted to melt into the floor. Tony glanced around the room, and all eyes were on them.

“But, what’s done is done, I suppose. I hope you consider that, young man. The things you can’t change, no matter how much you might like to.”

“Lady, your son tried to kill my friends,” Tony spat, leaping from his seat. The woman was just about his height, and she stepped back in surprise. “And not just kill them – _torture_ them, in their own _home_, before he finished them off. And over what? Fucking dope.” The younger man cast an eye on the fur coat the woman wore, the numerous gold and silver chains that adorned her neck, the mother-of-pearl ring that could give a man a black eye if aimed right. “I suppose you’ll miss the income more than your son. But me? My friend did the _right thing._ What kind of _monster_ kills kids out of spite? Better question: what kind of woman gives birth to such a monster?”

Seth’s mother stood stock still, shaking in anger, gasping for the right words.

“That’s what I thought,” Tony said. He stood protectively in front of Clay, who had just now turned his gaze towards his best friend. “Now shut the _fuck_ up and get the _fuck_ out!”

A minute passed. The coffeeshop was dead silent. “Well, I never!” the woman finally squeaked, her shaking still insistent.

“I meant it. Get the fuck out, now, before I have you removed. Clay Jensen deserves to have some peace, now, after all the pain and suffering your son caused him and his family. I doubt anyone will miss you once you’re gone.” With that, Tony took a menacing step forward. The woman spun on her heel and left, her coffee order forgotten in her wake.

The silence in the room lasted another minute. Then, as though someone had pushed an ‘on’ switch, the conversation and bustle began their normal rhythm again. “Thanks, Tony,” Clay said quietly.

“No problem. Least I could fucking do for my _hermano_, yeah?” Tony put the cap on his to-go cup. “Let’s get out of here. Mami said she’s making a double batch of those enchiladas for you to take home. Something about needing ‘real food’ at a time like this?”

“Have I mentioned that I love your mother? Seriously. Love, right there.” Clay smiled, a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure we’ll find that secretly, you’re her switched-at-birth son. Wonder who _your_ parents were supposed to have?” It looked to Tony like a weight had been lifted off his friend’s shoulders, and if enchiladas and coffee were the price he had to pay, it was well worth it.


End file.
